Death by Winchester Join the club
by FliscentFiretail
Summary: I was fourteen when I picked up my first book of Supernatural. I was seventeen when I discovered that the Supernatural was real, family dead, future gone. I was eighteen when I discovered that the Winchesters were actually real. Needless to say, I pointed myself squarely in the opposite direction and spent the next seven years avoiding the hell out of them. Too bad it didn't work.
1. Chapter 1

**esSummary: I was fourteen when I picked up my first book of Supernatural written by Carver Edlund. I was around seventeen when I discovered that the Supernatural was real, leaving me bereft of family or future. I was about eighteen when I discovered that the Winchesters were actually real. Needless to say, I pointed myself squarely in the opposite direction and spent the next seven years avoiding everything associated with them. Too bad it wouldn't work forever.**

Ch. 1

I should have moved to Mexico.

Sometimes I ask myself, _Morgan, why did you stay in America after you discovered the truth, that all that shit you had read as a pubescent teen was real?_ I mean, my family being possessed should have been my biggest clue how bad things were going to get. My mother was possessed by a demon, killed my father, older brother before turning to me, eyes gleaming black. My response had been to salt the hell out of her and babble off the exorcism chant through the sobs. I mean, come on, total nerd here, and the books had been good.

When I had run out of Supernatural books to read, I had still craved material to read, thus turning to ancient lore books. It had come in handy. Well, sort of, when it came to saving my life the first few months. Too bad lore books don't teach you enough psychology to properly handle someone who had experienced a traumatic event, and my mother had definitely been traumatized. She could remember killing the love of her life and her oldest most beloved child. All she had left was me, and I had always been the black sheep and a daddy's girl. It hadn't been enough for her to reconsider what she would do next.

Coming to, my mother had been so horrified and heartbroken she didn't hesitate to pull the trigger and blast her brains all over the ceiling in the living room, gore landing on the T.V. and staining my father's leather jacket hanging by the front door. Needless to say, I had more issues than Vogue. Thanks, Mom.

I looked down as I fingered the faded stain on the worn jacket that I wore, eyes bleary and barely able to see as the purr of an old engine filled my ears, lights flashing past in the dark as the old Impala flew through town.

I sighed remembering the night I had fled into the waiting arms of the world, now a high school dropout terrified by every little sound as she clung to her father's guns. It figured I would be thinking of the source of my downfall right before dying.

The only thing I knew how to hunt at that age had been deer, elk, boar, moose, rabbit, and waterfowl. That night I took all my books from the Supernatural series with me as well as all my lore books, all the salt in the house, money and whatever seemed useful. I had hesitated on the threshold of the house as I paused to look at my father's jacket, the old worn leather easily soaking up and accepting the blood of my mother, though the dark color masked most of it. After a moment I grabbed it before fleeing, never looking back. A year later, I would be well versed enough to be able to sniff out a demon, kill a vampire and hunt a werewolf.

It was a pretty rotten idea if you asked me, becoming a hunter, but at that point in my life, I had needed it with a desperation that had bordered on addiction.

 _Hey kid, you wanna kill a vampire?_ I snorted at the idea of a creepy hunter luring me in with the promise of a hunt like a dealer luring an addict. Must be the blood loss. Who was I kidding? I hadn't been working with a full set of crayons for years well before my happy life had crashed and burned all those years ago.

It wasn't for revenge, the hunting. The only way I would ever get revenge for my family would be to kill every demon in hell and that was beyond my power because it had been an average nondescript demon, not some superpowered character with an evil master plan. No, I hunted because I had just lost my mother, father, and brother gorily. I had just discovered that the supernatural was real and that potentially everything that had been written about was a real nightmare just lurking in the dark. I was depressed almost to the point of suicide. So, I gave myself a purpose. Something to work towards.

For me, hunting had always been a coping mechanism. _Oh! I don't need to deal with this hurt and pain because I should be focusing on saving these jackasses from being eaten! See! No guilt! Just priorities, and I've got my priorities straight! Yup! Totally not procrastinating! And while I'm at it, this room looks dirty. Oh! I need to do laundry too! But first, to the rescue! Hang in there jackass, I'm coming to save you! No, don't put your hand th- oh, he's dead. Well, shit. I'm going to have to burn it all. Fuck, I'm out of gasoline. I'm going to have to go get more._

I needed it so badly or I would have drunk myself to death that first month. I still got a craving for liquor every now and then from that dark time in my life, and I had a feeling that that would continue for the rest of my life. Once I finished one job I would try to find another. I needed a goal to work towards so I could continue living each day one at a time until the pain slowly began to ease bit by bit. It was a wonder I didn't end up dead the first year, a first-rate fucking miracle.

I had scrounged to survive after that night, falling in with a _few_ of the wrong crowds, either hunting or not,( though I would avoid other hunters usually after year one when I learned the truth about Sam and Dean.) All that sought to take advantage of me or to use me easily sensed fresh meat. After all, I was unmarked by scars or brands, doe eyed and pure, my naivety practically an aura that screamed clueless. They came running, descending on me like a pack of wolves and I was all but devoured. It wasn't long before I was quick to drawn, viciously merciless in a fight and wary but able to scam and con my way by aquiring the skills needed to get by. In the beginning, though, there had been a few times when I had done unsavory things to eat that day. It hadn't been pretty, but here I was. Dying. Well, guess it hadn't mattered much.

As I stared out the car window my expression soured further, seeing as I was in a great deal of pain and these unpleasant thoughts were not helping. It probably also had something to do with me being in the one place I never wanted to find myself; in the company of the Winchesters, or more specifically, Sam and Dean Winchester from the Novels by Carver Edlund.

Yes, here I was in the one place I had never wanted to be for the duration of my twisted miserable little life. In the back seat of the Winchester's Impala, sailing down the highway as they rushed to get me to a hospital. It's my fault for deciding to be a hunter, for slowly growing to crave the rush that came with the hunt and coming so close to death time and time again. I couldn't give it up if I wanted to.

It's also my fault for being too reckless (this time,) and over extending myself.

And finally, I shouldn't have taken a partner. I usually worked alone and for good reason. Unlike most hunter's, I didn't have any contact with Bobby Singer and they typically did. As I feared, my one time partner had done the one thing I never wanted when it looked like we were going to lose this battle. She had managed to call the one man I had never wanted to contact before she died, a certain Bobby Singer that had called the Winchester boys and sent them down to go pick up a job gone bad. Now my sorry ass was in the back of the car as they rushed to save me. I groaned, a mixture of pain and dismay.

"Sam?" Dean demanded in his gravelly voice as I caught the flash of blue eyes look over the front seat.

"Hold on, we're almost there," came Sam's soothing Alto as he doubled the pressure on my arm and my gut wound. He was probably keeping my gits from spilling out. Great. I groaned louder at the increase of pain but I was too weak to pull away. My eyelids began to droop.

"Hey! Don't fall asleep on me!" called Sam as he gave me a small slap on the face. My head flopped to the side leaving me disorientated.

"Dean, she's fading. She's already lost a lot of blood. I'm not sure she's going to make it," Sam called, my vision blurring further. It damn well figured. I had always known that if I had bumped into the Winchesters, it would mean certain death for me. I mean who didn't die from running into these two? That or they ended up getting dragged into a really fucked up time line, and I didn't feel like getting on the Radar or Angels, Demons, Gods, God or anyone else that might be troublesome. Hopefully, my death would be quick. Someone began to shake me a voice calling but it was coming from far away. I grinned knowing it was time for me to go, a reaper slowly appearing in my vision.

"Sup Reaper. You here for me?" I asked groggily still grinning. The reaper grinned as Sam began to yell at me, the reaper growing more and more pronounced as the rest of the world began to fade. Totally called it. Hopefully, death would be peaceful.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary: I was fourteen when I picked up my first book of Supernatural written by Carver Edlund. I was around seventeen when I discovered that the Supernatural was real, leaving me bereft of family or future. I was about eighteen when I discovered that the Winchesters were actually real. Needless to say, I pointed myself squarely in the opposite direction and spent the next seven years avoiding everything associated with them. Too bad it wouldn't work forever.**

Ch. 2

If they killed me can they kill me again?

When I slowly came to I realized that I was tied to a cot, a ceiling fan churning above me, the shadow of the spinning blade causing an irritating effect on the lighting of the room as the shadowed were swiftly followed by light. I looked around blearily taking in the symbols on the walls and the floors before looking up to find a pair of storm blue eyes regarding me solemnly from the eye slot in the door. The eyes disappeared and I allowed my head to flop back as I relaxed into my cot. I was tired and felt like I had been hit by a damn truck. I should have gotten the license plate. I giggled at my shitty joke before flopping into an awkward but still comfortable position as the door to my cell opened, the groan of metal filling the air. I heard two sets of footsteps, one entered the room, one outside and a gentle whoosh before another pair could be heard. After a minute a gravelly voice broke the stillness.

"Hey!" I jerked awake again for a moment before groaning, my head sinking into the pillow once more.

"Five more minutes," I muttered. My pillow was jerked away. I just twisted into a comfortable position while ignoring him. After a moment water was dumped on me and I shrieked at the frigid temperature.

"Mothertrucking son of a birch! What the heck do you want?!" I yelled infuriated as I rolled over my head, landing on my feet at the head of the bed despite still being handcuffed to the cot, bringing it up and between me and my assailant. Dean Winchester regarded me with solemn eyes before holding up a knife for me to see. I frowned identifying it as silver. So, he wanted to test me? I bet that had been holy water that he had just dumped on me. He must have already tested me in my sleep, so why was he testing me again? Why was I here? What happened that had caused the Winchester boys to take an interest in me, enough to drag me back to Bobby's panic room and have Castiel watch me until I woke up?

I frowned trying to remember what happened beyond passing out in their car on the way to the hospital. I slowly held out my arm for him to cut and he made the cut quick and clean, swiftly drawing back as I held out my arm for him to see clearly. He looked at Sam who quickly salted me. After a moment they looked to one another before Dean sighed in concession. Sam swiftly removed my cuffs though truthfully, I could have gotten out of them easily. No need giving away my tricks, though, making them warier would have been amusing. They looked tense enough to snap. I rubbed my wrist as I watched them carefully not bothering to speak as they regarded me back. Finally, after about five minutes I raised an eyebrow questioningly. Sam who was being torn apart by the tension began to speak swiftly to answer my unasked question.

"Hey… uh, sorry didn't get your name," he headed. The look I sent him was unimpressed as I pointedly looked at the cot and handcuffs behind me before sending him an expectant look.

 _You kidnapped me, restrained me and now you are trying to ask for my name? I think we are a little past that. Explanation now_ , as it roughly translated. He coughed nervously.

"Yeah, so um, do you remember what happened?" he asked.

 _Which part,_ my face seemed to say.

"Uh, when we were in the car heading to the hospital?" he asked. Dean frowned at Sam and me.

 _Meh so-so. Not really, why?_ My face seemed to say. He coughed, looking a bit nervous.

"Ah, well, you… ah, kinda… died." I froze. I was pretty sure my face was relaying _What the fuck?!_ at that moment.

"I know, that was our reaction," Sam said with a tight grin as Dean shot him an incredulous look.

"She didn't even say anything, Sam," he said reproachfully.

"Dude, it's kinda obvious," Sam muttered as he held out a hand my direction as I continued having a coronary in the corner. Don't mind me.

I made q choking sound as I gestured to myself. _Was I still alive?!_

"Uh, yeah. We're pretty sure. You died and we turned the car around heading for a good place to burn you. You know, give you a proper hunter's send off. We were almost done setting up the pyre when you sat up with a gasp before passing out again. We tested you before bringing you back, but Dean wanted to test some sigils out on you to see how you would respond. So far, nothing," he said as I frowned deeply still not liking this.

"You know, I expected to die upon meeting the Winchesters, but not coming back to life afterward. Fuuuuuck, now my life is going to get so complicated and fuuuucked uuuup," I groaned, feeling very upset.

"So, you've heard of us?" Dean asked as he shot me a confused but suspicious look.

"I know exactly who you two are," I grumbled as I studied the symbol on the far wall. Looked Enochian. That was probably why the Angel was staying out of the room. It was probably warded to trap angels or repel them. Sam frowned looking confused.

"Why do you think that your life is going to get complicated from just meeting us?" he asked sounded slightly confused before he suddenly perked up with annoyance.

"Hey, wait! Why did you say 'Oh fuck, I _knew_ I should have moved to Mexico' when I said my name? That makes no damn sense," he demanded as I sighed rubbing the back of my neck.

"Because you two only operate in the United States, and if I had been hunting out of the country I wouldn't ever run into you two." The two brothers shot each other suspicious frowns to one another before returning their attention back to me as I sighed tiredly, my drenched shirt causing me to shiver.

"Alright. It was nice knowing you two, it's been real but I am currently freezing my nips off and I'm pretty sure I need a bath. I smell filthy. Now if you will excuse me," I muttered before pushing past the two brothers and Castiel as I moved down the hall.

"You never answered my first question!" Sam called as he moved to follow.

"Hey wait, if you're a hunter, how come Bobby doesn't know you? In fact, I don't think most of the hunters he knows know who you are. Who the hell are you?" Dean challenged as I made it to the top of the stairs.

"That is exactly how I want it Dean in answer to the first question as to why no one knows of me. Now let it go, it isn't Winchester business and I never want it to be." I called as I entered the living room with a shiver. The upstairs was warmer but not by much.

"Why? What do you have against us? You don't know us from Adam and yet you've been _avoiding_ us? How did you even _hear_ of us outside of hunter circles?" Sam demanded, still hot on my heels as I looked for my stuff.

"Oh please, you two barely keep in contact with hunting circles yourselves mostly because your father didn't but also because you only hunt with your brother. I hunt by myself for the same reasons you only trust him to watch your back, the same reason most hunters only trust family," I said as I spotted my bag under the couch and yanked it towards me. Plucking a fresh bra free I fastened it under my shirt before shimmying out of the old one and pulling the new one onto place before yanking my drenched top off, a clean one already in hand and finding its way over my head. Sam coughed and turned away, Dean and Castiel remaining indifferent as I pulled the shirt down.

"So, you're saying you don't trust anyone but family? Or that all your family is dead?" Dean demanded.

"Dean," Sam cautioned his voice a bit tight with strain. It might have been the sudden exposure of skin or it might have been all the scars from earlier. Meh, didn't really matter. I snorted at Dean's question.

"Both." I chucked my wet shirt in a plastic bag before chucking it back in my bag and zipping it up.

"For someone who doesn't associate with anyone, you seem to know a lot, like that shit about our dad never joining hunting groups. Maybe you want to start talking before we assume that your involved with demons," Dean growled, a hand going to the demon-killing knife he had hidden on his belt. I rolled my eyes with a snort.

"You can thank a set of books for that," I muttered as I made towards the front door.

"Hey! Wait, hold on a minute. You've actually read those books? The Supernatural books by Carver Edlund?" Sam demanded as Dean frowned at him, clearly in thought as he connected the dots. I snorted as I grabbed my father's jacket and my hunting bag from beside the door.

"Yeah, it's the only reason I'm still alive, and how I know that everything you two get involved in gets too complicated for my taste. Later boys. Hopefully, we will never meet again," I called before setting out through the front door, my shades and hat now in place. I heard them call for me to wait but by then I had passed behind a junk pile, a spell on my lips. Before Sam or Dean could round the corner I had disappeared, reappearing a couple states away at one of my safe houses. Another spell and I was clean and wearing pajamas. It wasn't the same as a bath but it was good enough for now. I sighed tiredly as I made my way in and kicked off my shoes, going face first into my couch with a pleased groan.

"I missed you, baby," I cooed to the couch as I pet it affectionately, content. Hey, I said that I had gotten pulled into a few bad crowds, I just never said how bad, but don't worry, I wasn't a full-fledged witch or anything. No human sacrifices or conference with demons. I just knew a shit ton of spells and had the power to back it up. Speaking of power, I had to ward the house against angels. It wouldn't do to let him get in, in case the hex bags didn't work and he still found me. Finally done warding I passed out face first on the couch.

...

I woke up to my living room on fire.


End file.
